


Thank You For Going Greyhound

by Ulawan5



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abusive Bro Strider, Airports, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M, Mass Transit, Sleepovers, Swearing got it the rating, Travel, runaway dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulawan5/pseuds/Ulawan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John travels halfway across the country by bus on short notice to pick up his internet best bro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on an actual Greyhound bus after we passed the station described (I think), I was going in a different direction though. The entirety of this I think will be written while traveling. It's written in notepad on my phone with no editing so here it goes.

Here you stand.  
It's 2 AM at a greyhound bus station in the middle of butt fuck Arkansas. You've been trying endlessly to make it from Seattle all the way to Houston to see your best friend.  
Oh yeah, and you're meeting him in the middle of the country because he was recently kicked out of school. He couldn't stand to face his brother (not that he was really ever around), it was the fighting that got him expelled. And he couldn't do anything about anything cause he didn't want CPS involved, which it most assuredly would have been.  
You're lucky that you have a reasonable father. You're lucky that you have an allowance at all. But you're still not sure if he's okay with his 16 year old son traveling across the country for another kid. You didn't even give dad the full story. You just said "hey, I've got to go to texas for Dave" and he just made sure you knew how you were getting there and to be safe.  
Poor Dave, you think to yourself. He's really got nothing left, but then, he never really had anything to lose to begin with. He's just a skinny motherfucker from Houston who acts like he's cool. Never got what he needed as a kid, and you grew up with his facades for years before you figured it out.  
Peak as you stand at this dimly lit sign outside of a fucking Love's in Arkansas. You're constantly eyeing around for figures with knives seeking your wallet. You pull your printed ticket out again and read the words you've read a thousand times: september 17, 20XX, SEATTLE TO DALLAS.  
Dave only had enough cash to get to Dallas one way. You'd spent quite a lot on getting yourself to this side of the Rockies. Nothing your dad's mysteriously high end job couldn't easily swallow though. You were definitely going to meet him there.  
You glance at the shiny lime green duffle bag by your feet and lean back on the brick bench. You'd hastily packed, and you were paying for it. You were so hungry you'd breached the point of not being hungry anymore. And the convenience store behind you scared you just enough away. You fiddle with the ivy or whatever that's snaking its way slowly through the bricks.  
You see headlights brighter than normal down the horribly ancient asphalt road, and quickly gather yourself, checking your watch. Half an hour late, but whatever. It's the price you pay in America for not being able to drive you guess.  
\---  
The new station in dallas is incredibly misleading. It's 8 in the morning, and you stepped out to get a better cup of coffee down the road(to no avail). The place is clearly from the 30s, but the inside is of the newest you've ever seen. Not like some of the holes in the wall you'd seen on the way. Some of those you were thoroughly surprised that they hadn't collapsed in on themselves.  
You walk out of CVS with a conciliatory mountain dew and a bag of chex mix.  
You are fiddling with the bags and fail to see the red and white shape booking it towards you, and you're caught off guard by the high speed collision that sends your soda flying and clamps the scarf on your neck into your trachea.  
"hey you gay fucking nerd" you hear from the shape who is clinging to your shoulders for dear life.  
Oh.  
Holy shit.  
"Hey dave...?"  
"You know it asshole."  
Yizeamazikes he's tiny what. How could he look that gangly and be, what, 5'4"?  
You return the hug, slowly wrapping your arms around the dipshit who is wearing no coat, just a long sleeve baseball shirt like usual. How does this guy ever thing for a second he's cool?  
"You okay man?"  
"Fuckin peachy it's the best week of my life."  
"Oh yeah? You want something to eat?"  
He nods into your shoulder and detatches. You offer the bag.  
Oh fuck he's even cuter than onscreen.  
"Majestic first meeting, ah?"  
His mouth quirks like a smile, but the rest of his face isn't moving behind the massive Ben Stiller shades, which you'll be quick to remind anyone, you bought for him when he turned 13.  
"thanks man"  
You start walking, this is the most awkward thing to ever happen in your life, you think to yourself.What do you even say ?  
"So, sup?"  
You can feel Dave's glare through the shades. "Sup? That's all you got?"  
"Well what do you want me to say?"  
"..."  
"How about, are you okay? Did you get hurt that bad?"  
"...  
"...  
"Yeah. I got this gnarly bruise on my back and some more on my hips you wanna see?"  
"Is that a pickup line?"  
"Nah never mind."  
You chuckle half-assedly.  
"...ready to come up north?"  
"Man I'm not even sure. I don't know what's going on."  
"Hey, you'll be fine, my dad's an understanding guy or whatever."  
"Sure you're okay with dealing with a runaway?"  
"So that's what you're calling it? Probably we'll enroll you at my school if worst comes to worst."  
"...yeah."  
You wait for a crosswalk signal.  
"...so the bus leaves at 11."  
"What time's it now?"  
"Like...," you check your watch, "10:15?"  
"Sweet." You walk to the other side of the street. "Hey here's your food back."  
"Dave you didn't eat anything?"  
"Decided I'm not up for the barren wasteland that is chex mix. The hell did you buy that shit?"  
"Maybe it's starchy and- oh nevermind."  
You open the door to the station for Dave.  
"Check your bags in?"  
"Yeah a while ago."  
"Cool."  
The intercom beeps "loading bus 8372 bound for los angeles."  
You elbow Dave in the arm, "hey that's us we gotta go!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, wake up, we're stopping for a little bit."  
Dave wraps the blanket tighter around him and squishes further into the seat.  
"Dave they're making us get off the bus."  
He whines.  
You roll your eyes and pull the top of the blanket off his head. You hesitate.  
You plant a kiss above his ear and he freezes.  
He looks you in the eye, his shades were abandoned hours ago in favor of sleep. There's a look of suppressed confusion and vague panic on his face.  
You smile sheepishly. "Come on they need to clean and gas up and stuff."  
He pauses, looking around, then nods slowly. The two of you are silent as you exit the bus.  
\---  
The station feels like a rundown school cafeteria mixed with a train platform. The food is yet again horrifying, so you stick to the machines. The both of you sit together on a bench munching on doritos and fruit snacks.  
"...Hey uh, sorry I did that back on the bus. I know that was weird, and uncalled for..."  
"Don't sweat it. It's whatever."  
Dave is staring at his bag of doritos, he might even be reading it.  
You fiddle with the creases on the junk package nervously.  
Your thoughts are spinning, why did you do that? What was the point? Was it just a weird way of expressing you care to the runaway on your watch? The kid you'd been talking to for years and hadn't met until 8 hours ago?  
You guess you could chalk the odd silence the whole way here to having already said all there was to say online. But it didn't make it any less uncomfortable. Your best friend of about 6 years was finally next to you in the flesh. Why are you suddenly compelled to do weird shit like kissing him on the head?  
"Bus 8372 bound for Los Angeles is now boarding. Please present your tickets to the attendant."  
You stand and look at your friend, who is still staring at his chips.  
"Dave hey, we're hitting the road."  
He nods, and walks past you.  
You pick up your bag before running to make up the ground between you and stand behind him in line.  
There is a long silence while you get back in your seats and re-situate yourselves. The driver doesn't make a speech this time, he's new, though.  
\---  
Time passes. You can't see out the windows much anymore. You're pretty sure it's the same scenery as before, but it's so much more eerie obscured by night. You try not to focus outside, and keep checking your phone for messages that don't come. Actually upon thought they would have been from Dave.  
He's currently sitting in the next seat with his shades back on. You don't know if he's asleep or not. He's got earbuds in but you haven't heard anything out of them in a while.  
"Hey John?"  
You startle. "Wh- Yeah?"  
He's quiet. Probably mostly because many other passengers are asleep. "You're cool you know that right?"  
"What?"  
"From earlier."  
"O-oh ...okay?"  
"Wanted to let you know."  
He undoes his crossed arms and stretches one out on the armrest and faces you with a half smile.  
You give a nervous one back.  
You're not entirely sure what he's trying to say until he reaches under the small median and holds your hand.  
You sit stiffly and let his fingers entwine with yours, and slowly relax in your seat as well as into his grasp.  
The night doesn't seem so scary anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet, I promise. Happy Valentine's Day.


	3. Chapter 3

A few more hours pass as the two of you drift in and out of sleep. It's like these seats were designed to not let you sleep in them.  
Your hands don't separate.  
You thank high heavens that you're in the back row, and obscured by the seat in front of you, as well as your coat draped across Dave's knees.

The idiot hadn't prepared at all, it was like he didn't know he was going up to Washington in the middle of goddamn November. All he had brought was a duffel bag with some bare bones stuff. Not a single piece of winter gear or anything.

 

You notice his mouth is tense.

“...Hey, are you okay?”

He pauses, then shakes his head.

“Do you wanna talk about anything?”

He stays quiet, and shakes his head again.

You tighten your grip on his hand just slightly.

“Want to wait till we stop again?”

Dave reaches with his free hand to wipe his eyes. His shades move just enough to show you that he's been crying. He faces you and nods.

 

You don't say anything till the driver tells you to get off again, and only then do you separate.

The station is tiny, and the first sign of daylight is peeking over the horizon.

You walked to the side. It's secluded enough to not be a hazardous back alley or anything, but you are just far enough to not be seen in plain view.

“So uh, what's wrong? If you wanna talk about it at all that is...”

Dave takes off his shades, and he looks you dead in the eye.

“I didn't start that fight.”

“The one at school?”

“Yeah. That wasn't me. But that wouldn't have mattered worth a damn to Bro. All that mattered was that I lost, and I was caught.”

“So...that's why you needed to leave? You were afraid?”  
He glares, “Don't fucking say it like that man, this wasn't some pussy ass decision. This was for my safety. And god damn...am I lucky that you were there.”

“Dude I've always told you I'll do anything, It was seriously no problem-”  
“Yes it fucking was, don't lie you idiot. You suck at that. You're missing school and I know how important that is to you.” His voice starts to quiver, “...So thanks.”

“Dave hey I-” You hold out your arms and he throws himself into you. He practically squeezes the air from your lungs, and you don't do anything but hug back. He digs his face into your shoulder, and you can feel the sharp intakes of breath that mean...

Dave Strider is crying into your shoulder.

You're not entirely sure how to react to this, the most stoic person you've ever met being so...un-stoic. You try your best by running your fingers through his hair, and rubbing his back occasionally, letting his tears soak through your shirt. He's still wearing your coat.

The silence is only occasionally broken by rough sobs and sniffles. He doesn't loosen his grip in the slightest. He must have needed this for a long time.

You look toward him on your shoulder, and plant a kiss on his forehead.

To this, he immediately snaps his head up and kisses you on the lips. Wholly and deliberately.

You're taken aback at first, but you ease into the return. He kisses as if he it is the only thing he has on earth left, like it's the last thing he has to stay safe.

Dave breaks off, and stares at you worriedly, as if he's overstepped something. His red eyes shift to avoid your gaze before you hold him in your arms tighter, then his focus is front and center.

“I won't let go until you tell me to. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, okay? We'll figure this out.”

Dave nods. He smiles. “...How in the hell did I land someone like you, Egbert?”

“By talking to strangers on the internet and never leaving them alone, really.”

He lightly smacks your shoulder, and laughs. “I guess so, huh?”

Dave pauses, staring into your eyes with the happiest look you've ever seen on him.

“...Oh hey wait hold up,” You fish a packet of tissues out of Dave's coat pocket and offer it. “You look really gross dude.”

He picks it up and swipes it across his face, making a funny expression while he does so.

“You're a fucking nerd for keeping tissues on you oh my god.”

“The best _kind_ of nerd. I'm prepared.”

“Oh shit look there's people about to get on the bus. We gotta jet.”

“Just one more before we go back to normalville?”

Dave obliges with a grin, and pops you on the top of the head while he breaks away from the hug. 

“Thanks man.”

\---

You've boarded the bus once again, but everything around you seems so much more 'other' now, like you know a lot more about something than they do.

And truth be told you do.

The bus driver shuts the door and stands at the front of the vehicle.

“Good morning folks, I'll be your driver for the rest of our trip from here to Seattle. So just sit tight, enjoy the sunrise, and thank you for going Greyhound.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll clean this up soon, it's 1 AM. Thanks for bearing with me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real world catches up with some stutid teenagers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates this instead of every other project.  
>  Surprise! This was so much fun to write I wanted to continue it. There might even be a few more chapters after this one, but who knows!

 Your dad is standing with his arms crossed as soon as you enter the bus station. 

 You had called him from the bus as soon as you had started recognizing landmarks.

 “Hello son.”

 “Hey, dad...?” Your voice quivers. His face is cold as the steel of the railings. 

 “Would you like to hear who I just got a call from?”

 “Uh…” you take a half step to stand between him and Dave. “Sure.”

 “The elder Strider phoned me last night, would that have anything to do with his sudden disappearance then?”

 Dave gently taps your arm to pass, you make clear that you’re worried by nearly making your eyebrow muscles sore.

 “Sir, I left on my own accord. Your son did nothing wrong, he kept me safe if anything. Thank you for allowing him to go.”

 You’d never in your life heard him be this articulate. Especially towards an adult.

 Your dad looks at him with the smallest bit of disbelief, and pauses.

 “I’m so sorry dad, I just didn’t want him to get hurt, the way he talked it sounded like Bro was gonna hack him up in his sleep! I got scared, I’m sorry!” The words dribble out of your mouth until you’re left scrambling for more.

 Your father retains his stern appearance, “John, we need to get him back home. He can’t be out of school for much longer till the law gets involved. Not to mention this runaway business.”

 “Can’t he go to school with me? Can’t we just take him in for now? Just till he’s safe? Bro isn’t going to be reasonable right now he just needs time to cool off...I think. He might not be human I’m not sure how he works.”

 Your dad sighs quickly. “This isn’t a puppy you found on the street, son. Dave is a human being, there is paperwork and authorities and so much else involved. This is bigger than just you two, I’m sorry. They’re only here to keep people safe, and I know sometimes it works against good intentions.”

 You could feel tears welling up, how could you never have thought of this, how could you ever have thought this would work.

 “Dad, please, I just want him to be okay…” 

 Your dad keeps his composure, but remains silent for a moment. People bustle around the station and around your trio. 

 At last, he sighs.   
 “There is no use shipping him back before this is resolved. It’s late. You both need your rest.”

 Your shoulders release immediately, and Dave throws a high five and a whoop, smiling under his sunglasses.   


 You’d won the battle, but not yet the war.

 ...Dave doesn’t let go after the high five.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Dave get situated at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is this?   
> Enjoy, fluff road ahead, and the longest chapter so far.

 The drive home was quiet. 

 Dave’s luggage was far less than you expected. The way he had talked about it it sounded like he had moved out entirely. What he pulled out of the bus baggage compartment was a backpack with less than three changes of clothes. 

 What was he thinking when he packed? 

 You try not to dwell on it, but the thought finds you anyways. You consider how it could have been if you hadn’t met up with Dave. Maybe he would have lived in the streets of Dallas? Plenty of busy intersections to get pennies from. He was young. He may have been able to hack it. 

 ...You really try not to think of what would happen if he couldn’t.

 

 Home is bigger than you remember it being, but somehow humble at the same time. Like a baseline, a round-up median, yuppie-for-sure residence. You never thought this much about it before. It certainly beats living on the streets for at least a night. Dave must have been scared shitless waiting in that bus station till dawn, wondering if Bro knew his whereabouts.

 The car door opens and you’re jolted to attention to unbuckle your seatbelt.

 Dave looks at you before undoing his, making sure you know what you’re doing.

 You obviously don’t. This entire situation is new to you. You talk a big game about your friends and what you’d do for them, but you’d never gone through with it before. Hell, you’d never even left town on your own before.

 But your best friend of four years at your side as you walk up the pathway brings all of those thoughts to an internal monologue. He’s here. He’s real. And for the moment, he is safe with you. He’s even still wearing your coat (to your dismay, it’s left you hugging yourself in just your long sleeves).

 Your dad unlocks the door, and warmth pours forth into your faces.

 The smells of home wash over you as you enter, same decor everywhere, same familiar layout. You worry about Dave. This is a lot to take in, you think to yourself, you hope he’s not too overwhelmed.

 

 “So, Dave, there is a guest bedroom if you are interested, Or John has a trundle under his bed still. And though it’s late, I could make something for the two of you. I know it’s been quite a long day.”   
 You respectfully decline your dad’s offer of food, saying that you want to make dave all the stuff you’ve always talked about while he’s here, maybe watch (fall asleep to) a movie. 

 He responds with a smile that you should enjoy yourselves. He’ll call Mr. Strider, and have this sorted out by morning.

 He leaves you both to do as you please, and walks into his study.

 

 Dave gives you a half smile, and you both share a dry laugh. You’re finally here, you’re together and the safest you’ve been all week. 

 Your stomach could not be more fluttery.

 You’re worried about the outcome, and what Dave will think about everything that’s happening. Everything had been so great on the bus, you were your own world and nothing would catch you alive. Where did it all go?

 Truth be told it was yanked out of you the second your dad showed his face. He always had to be “the real world,” the representation of responsibility. You love him to death, make no mistake, but when he has to be serious your heart will always drop to your shoes.

 You’re staring into the fridge a lot longer than you should be. maybe you should kick your actual practical thoughts into gear. Come on, feet, we gotta make that popcorn.

 You manage to wrench yourself away from the door and flash a smile at Dave before ducking into the pantry to pull out a bag of microwave popcorn. Shh, you know it’s trashy, but what more can you do right now? You don’t want to have to clean more things after this is over than you need to.

 Popcorn in the microwave, you set upon all the other tasks to prepare this weird dish. Something you made up yourself on a bored school evening. 

 

 “No fucking way.”

 “What?”

 “You are actually going to straight up put cheese on popcorn.”

 “Well yeah, don’t you remember me talking about this one?”

 “I never thought I’d live to see you make it this looks sick.”

 “What’s so bad about cheese and popcorn?”

 “So you’re saying you don’t sense the inherent wrongness of putting fancy mozzarella on microwave butter popcorn.”

 “Don’t knock it till you try it, man.”

 Dave smiles on one side, “Okay, you get one shot. Final offer.”

 “Whoo, serious stakes Mr. Strider. Are you done acting like you’re above bored teenager food?” You go back to slicing the cheese.

  
  


 A while passes, and you’re both in your room on your bed while Netflix loads on your monitor. The popcorn is reheated, cheese melted, and neither of you dare to touch it. It looks a lot more gross than you had remembered.

 “Man weird food and a shitty movie, is this what every slumber party in the great state of Washington is like?”

 You chuckle, “Um, maybe it’s just me? I never really had people over when I was a kid. And even less recently. So I don’t really know.”

 “I’m just yanking your chain, but are you a hundred percent certain that this pile of cheese will not kill me.”

 “Fairly certain, I mean I’m not dead yet, right?”

 “So far as we all can tell, but you never can know. Maybe you dreamed it the first time.”

 You take a second to realize what he’s getting at, he played off this stuff all the time online. 

 “...Dude, you don’t have to eat it if it bothers you that much, I don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

 Dave’s shoulders relax, but his face doesn’t change. He pauses.

 “...Thanks, man.”

 

\----

 

 Nobody pays attention to the movie. Maybe in passing, but Dave spends the majority of it facing the ceiling laying on his back.

 You pretend not to notice, like you’re riveted by...what was it again? Alien 3? Space Jam? Something like that. You’re leaning on one hand, but you don’t want to upset the balance of everything. He’s leaning into your side, and you’re ‘absently’ carding your fingers through his hair with your free hand. He left the shades on the bedside table, but you can’t move to see whether he’s asleep or not. You just keep moving his hair into patterns, and he moved into your hand a while ago. You think it was about 20 minutes into the movie this whole thing started. You’ve lost track of everything in your head. 

 You don’t want to encroach on his personal space, but it’s a little hard to not want to be comforting to the kid you’ve been talking to for years, trying to make everything a little better through a screen. Now he’s here in your arms, what are you supposed to do now? Not to mention you’ve kissed each other in the past 48 hours. That tends to change a few rules on personal space, right? Your voice dried up an hour ago to ask if anything was wrong or if you can help. You just kind of retreated into this stupid thing. You’re scaring yourself, psyching out, why the hell are you so worried? Course, how could you not be worried. He probably needs a little bit of tenderness after all of this. God knows how he was getting by before.

 Dave shifts, and turns to face your chest. He drapes one arm over your torso, and moves the other to cradle his head. You take this as a cue to look down at him. The only word that comes to mind is ‘tired.’ you reposition to accommodate his new pose, and pull him slightly closer.

 Your mouth is dry, but you manage to mutter, “It’s gonna be okay.”

 He holds you a little tighter.

 You pick back up on moving his hair, now much more comfortable for both of you. 

  
 “I’m sorry,” you breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on boys, you can't keep not talking about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this finally updated again! I'm going to finish this fic, you can count on it.

 The next morning finds your arms empty.

 

 You roll out of bed, feet squishing on the floor, and pad down the stairs. The smell of cooking pancakes fills the air, accented by scents of butter, fruit, and syrup. 

 Trying not to catch anyone’s eye, you peek around the corner into the kitchen.

 Dave is sitting down, elbows bracing him on the table, one hand scrolls through his phone, the other supports his chin. His shades are back in place. 

 Dad mans the skillet, flipping and pouring hot batter like a professional. A finished stack waits for toppings a ways away.

 You pause there for a moment, weighing the option of simply not approaching. It takes all of your strength to move the ten feet into that kitchen. 

 You try very, very hard to sit down as quietly as possible so as not to disrupt the quiet morning.   Dave probably flicks his eyes up to see you pull the chair out, but keeps scrolling for a few seconds before putting his phone to sleep on the table top.

 He shifts the weight on his hand to face you more directly and waves with his other one lazily.

 “G'morning.”

 Your voice is thick in your throat, “Hey, dude,” you clear your throat of the sleep film, “how’s your morning so far?”

 A breath rushes out of him as well as a few inches from sitting height. “Pretty good actually. Your dad has some extra bacon he saved for you if you want it.”

 Mm, cold bacon, you think to yourself. Your dad always makes the first few pancakes in bacon grease. You wonder if he’ll give those to Dave.

 “Getting a variety of foods in the morning is always good for your health and energy,” Your dad adds casually.

 You smile, “Thanks dad.”

 A yawn bubbles up from your brain after a bit of silence.

 “Still with us man?” Dave asks, obviously restraining himself from yawning after you.

 “Yeah, long day yesterday I guess.”

 “I think that was the longest day I’ve had in years. You sure you’re alright?”

 “Did dad say what happened when he called?”

 “Well, the abridged version is that I should get back home and go back to school, and you should too -but hey yesterday was friday- and then your dad says he’s going to be writing me and to keep him updated and-” his mouth purses. His face goes slightly red, he must have realized how much he was speaking aloud. “Sorry, yeah, I have get gone by tomorrow night, so.”

 You look down at the table. You knew this couldn’t have lasted. It’s time to face the facts. “So do you know how you’re getting home?”

 “I think your dad said he had it covered. Something about club points.”

 “That’s good to hear. At least it’s...something.”

 Dave looks at you with a concerned half-smile. “I’m going to be fine, John.”

 “Can I...talk to you in the living room?” You ask, biting your lip as you finish from nerves.

 “Uhh, sure.” 

 You both rise, trying to keep the sound of chairs to a minimum. You hold the swinging door as he exits. Once around the corner, you gently take Dave’s hand in yours.

 “We can’t keep skirting around all of this. Are you okay? Is this..okay?”

 He pauses, shifting on his feet. “There’s not really anything else we can do. I mean…” His grip tightens in your hands, “We can try and make it work. All we can do is keep going.” Behind his shades, you’re sure he’s looking around at his options. Then, he kisses the hand on top of his own.

 You can feel the tears welling in your eyes and bite them back. You let go, and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

 His arms rise to hold you back.

 “Thanks, man,” Dave adds after a moment. 

 “I’m so sorry you have to go back. I’m sorry that this had to happen to you. I’m sorry I intervened I...” You take a deep breath, “You’re going to be okay.”

 You feel him nod into your arms. And for a second you’re almost sure.


	7. Chapter 7

 The flight process is surreal. It departs so early you barely have time to get your brain online before you’re checking not your bags into the terminal. Your dad isn’t coming, but he trusts you enough to get on the return flight safely. You did take a bus latitudinally across the country in the past week. He gets an escort pass anyways, to see you off onto the plane.

 When you get to the waiting area, your own boarding passes in hand, it’s a graveyard. Like a library. Nobody is speaking to anyone. Others are sleeping in very uncomfortable looking positions.

 Dave lets out a restrained yawn and stretches his arms. He punctuates this by dropping his head onto your shoulder. “It’s too fucking early to be up this early what the fuuuuuck.”

 “This was the only flight that had seats to Houston on such short notice.” You rub his most accessible shoulder in an effort to be comforting. “D’you wanna get some coffee?”

 A groan is all you receive from the Strider, but it’s soon followed up by weak nodding. 

 “Dad, you want anything?”

 “A strong ‘cuppa sounds nice, thank you.”

 “You got it, see you in a bit!”

 “Just keep an eye on the time,” Dad strides to an empty row of seats, picking up a magazine from the wall in the process, “I’m trusting you boys.”

 You wave as you exit the waiting area back into the mini-mall of the airport. These things have always fascinated you - despite how overpriced everything is. It’s still like a little city. There’s probably ten coffee shops in the hallway you stand in alone. “Any preferences?” you ask Dave.

 “Sugary, and pretty. My last taste of freedom.”

 “Starbucks it is,” you respond with a chuckle.

 You make your way through the barren halls of the airport. It’s like a particularly sparse video game, only the shopkeepers really seem to exist. All the rest seem to be trying not to stay in one place for too long. The nearest Starbucks of the four you can see is set into the wall next to a technology shop and a bookstore. You try not to think about how much markup there is collectively between all three.

 “How’s this one? They even have a little table I think.”

 “Looks like the best goddamn Blardrucks that ever existed.”

 You giggle, at least you can sort of cram a date in before Dave has to leave. Possibly forever? You try to quash that thought and focus on the literal actual coffee date staring you in the face.

 The barista is pleasant, tired, but seems happy to have something to do.

 Dave takes a seat to wait for his Frappuccino. 

 “Isn’t it a bit early for ice cream?” You say, shoving your cash back into your wallet.

 “I may as well be on Death Row, John, it’s never too early to start treating yourself.”

 “It’s not going to be that bad.” You say with a smile, maybe things could be like they were online. 

 The barista quietly calls for the double chocolate chip monstrosity drink, and you pour more creamer into your Pike Place avoiding Dave’s judging gaze. You’re pretty sure he’s judging you, anyways. 

 Dave sits without a word, already blowing through the icy disaster without so much as a wince.

 You take a seat opposite him at the tiny, tiny table, warming your hands on your coffee against the thought of his drink. 

 “You know, I think Texans are the only people I’ve ever heard of who eat ice cream in the dead of winter.”

 Dave doesn’t miss a beat finishing up his drag on the straw, “Have you really heard from any other person who enjoys Starbucks, though?”

 You smile at the thought of Rose and her tirades about capitalistic norms and the Evils of the Mermaid, “That’s fair.”

 You take a sip of your cooling burnt coffee. Why did you order this?

 Yep, there’s the cool silence again. Nice. 

 “Hey I’m… I’m really going to miss you.”

 “That’s really gay, my dude.” Dave says over a sip of frozen sugar.

 “Yeah? What if it is?”

 “Then I guess you’re really gay. Which is good because I knew it was only a matter of time before you fell for me.”

 You laugh a little, “I guess you’re right. But funny words coming from the guy who kissed  _ me. _ ”

 Dave joins in on the big smiles club. He stirs his drink a little. “Think your dad is wondering where we are?”

 “Probably in some bathroom doing gay shit.”

 “We could make that happen.”

 “At this hour? Pass.” You punctuate the remark with a sip of coffee. As much as you would really really enjoy that. You think. Probably. At least some more kissing. 

 “Oh well, a boy can dream.” He smirks.

 You check your watch, and your mood takes a shadow. “I think we should make our way back to the waiting area, they start boarding soon.”

 “Damn, and here I thought I was going to live in this shrine to consumerism for the rest of my life.”

 You collect your things, adjusting your jacket and securing your coffee lid. You walk out of the store before remembering your dad’s coffee was still not ordered, and sprint back to get another cup of burnt bean tea.

 

 It goes back to relative silence when you arrive at the waiting room. Your dad thanks you for the favor, and returns to his paper. Where in the hell did he even get that? Did he actually bring it with him?

 You decide not to question it, and pick up a sleazy gossip rag with slight disgust but genuine curiosity. Dave actually does too, you probably should have expected he read Teen Vogue ironically. Maybe he even does regularly? You put the questions out of your mind and try to focus on… Globe? What the fuck.

 

 You do your best not to think that your world is starting to end all over again. 

 But you really can’t help it.


	8. Chapter 8

You have to finish your coffee before you can board. The grimace on your face at tasting the puddle of soggy sugar at the bottom of your cup could probably be seen at 30 yards. You decide to just toss the whole thing in advance. 

 Dave finished his drink a while ago. He put down the magazine after about ten minutes, electing to scroll through his phone and make shitty doodles over photos for his snapchat followers. You feel like he’s been looking at you occasionally, but he’s put his shades back on, and you can’t tell anymore. 

 There’s a sinking feeling in your guts that things will change too much after this. What if his bro hurts him? ...What if he can’t get away next time? You try with all your might to quash them down like the oppressive silence around you smashes all desire to speak aloud.

 The flight number is called before you can get too deep into that train of worry. You wait in line with the rest of the crowd to board through the tarmac hallway you always thought was pretty eerie.

Getting onboard is a blur, waiting for everyone to get situated, it all escapes your mind soon after as you drift into a nap in the chair. Thank god there are only you two on your row.

 You don’t know how much time passes before the plane starts hurdling into the air at top speed, pulling you back into consciousness while Dave takes your hand again. Gently squeezing back, you look over at him.

 He looks...scared. His mouth is tight again like you’ve seen over video.

 “You okay?” you whisper.

 Dave shakes his head, almost imperceivable. 

 You stroke his hand with your thumb, and he clutches it tighter.

 You wish the words would come, but you guess they were left on the ground miles ago. With nothing below you, you can’t think of anything but how nice it feels to have Dave there. He’s there! It hits your heart like a good solid kick, your breath even skips over a heartbeat.

 You enclose his hand in both of yours, and pull them closer to your side of the seat row. You bite your lip. 

 “...I’m sorry, Dave.”

 He hum-grunts an affirmation.

 “I don’t want to make you go back. Please, I…”

 Dave places his free hand over the rest.

 You look down at your hands, then up at his eyes. “I… wanted to help you. It’s… It’ll be alright.”

 His expression tightens, then he sighs, one side of his mouth turning up in a worried smile. “...Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **REALITY NOTE**:  
>  Please please, if you are suffering at the hands of some you love or who claims to love you, tell someone. You do not have to suffer in silence. It is not right for a family member/loved one to make you afraid on a daily basis. Tell someone you know you can trust, or is contractually sworn to secrecy to determine the best course of action (these people are usually at schools and hotlines, but make sure you ask the circumstances before you give out sensitive information)  
>  You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to be loved. Abuse is not love. Bro Strider is an abusive fictional character (caused by supernatural circumstance), but these situations in reality can have real consequences on real humans' mental health. Abuse is not to be taken lightly. If you feel like you are 'making too much of a big deal' you are not alone. Your concerns are valid. If you have to question if treatment is abuse often, it is time to voice your concerns to someone you know will not endanger you with this information. Do your research, you are your own person and a wonderful, capable individual.  
>  I love you, please be safe.


End file.
